I See The Light
by Threaded Needles
Summary: Eugene Fitzherbert is the hottest (and nicest) teacher at Corona Public. And he's her tutor.
1. Chapter 1

"Miss Corona, please stay after class," Mr. Fitzherbert drawled, glancing in Rapunzel's direction.

She bit the inside of her cheek, refraining from crying or shouting out. Why did she have to stay after class? There were plenty of other kids goofing off; there was even a guy in the very back playing apps on his phone.

Unless it was about the shitty quiz grade. She hadn't read the material the night before, too tired from the school day, and she regretted it when she trudged into the first hour class and he passed back sheets of paper with five questions dotting the page.

The bell rang five minutes later and she left her things on her desk while everyone else exited the room, excited to get the assembly that was being held for Seniors. Mr. Fitzherbert patiently waited for the room to clear before he turned to her, and she silently thanked him for not embarrassing her in front of class.

He pulled up her grades on the computer. Her's rested at a 94% currently, and she was about to open her mouth and apologize about the quiz grade when he started talking.

"I wanted to discuss your essay that you wrote last week-"

She shut her eyes, as if it brought her physical pain. She had poured hours into it, was dedicated to the topic- but it had been tricky, and she hadn't been 100% behind it when she turned it in.

"-I gave you full credit. I haven't posted the grades online yet, but your's by far was the best. Very opinionated, I liked that, even if you didn't follow all the guidelines."

She listened to him talk to her for a couple minutes, bringing up the essay and highlighting specific parts that he congratulated her on. When he finished she smiled, glowing with pride from the grade.

"Now, do you need tutoring through our Shakespeare unit? Your grades haven't been very good-"

She was about to protest, after all it was only one bad quiz.

"-private tutoring?" He asked, smiling at her. She realized she had missed a lot of the conversation.

"What?"

"I'm offering you private tutoring."

"I'm sorry?" She asked, confused. They had public tutoring, where teachers tutored once a week, and student tutoring. There wasn't a thing of it being private.

"You could come in here after school, and I could help you with your homework or anything you're struggling with," He said, scribbling a dying pen against a sticky note. After a second he threw out the pen.

She felt her cheeks flush and looked down at her lap, fiddling with her charm bracelet. There were plenty of kids who needed help in the class- why was he offering it to her? It was pretty unprofessional of him, focusing more on a student he was fond of.

But at the same time, she didn't care. She was flattered he wanted /her/ in his class after school, even if it meant decoding Shakespeare or doing the reading guides.

She refused to look up and respond, so he scribbled down something on the sticky note and handed it to her. A hall pass. "If you change your mind, I'm always here after classes."

Immediately after the last bell of the day rang, Rapunzel grabbed her bag and placed homework in it, before heading down the Language hallway. She hesitated briefly before knocking on Mr. Fitzherbert's door and peeking in.

He was at his computer, entering grades, so she stepped in. "Uhm, is it okay if I come in?" She asked, propping the door open.

He looked up, briefly distracted by her, "yeah of course, go ahead and sit down."

She quickly picked a desk close to his desk, but far enough away that she didn't seem weird. She took out Calculus homework first, letting him finish what he was doing before she started talking.

"How was school?" He asked, brown eyes flickering over to her before he scanned another page of homework.

She shrugged. "It kind of drug on." Well, maybe that was only because her mind was screaming at her to go to his class- like ASAP.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He stood up suddenly, placing aside the folder he was working on, and grabbed a pencil. "So, did you still need help with the reading assignment?"

She put away the calculus homework and pulled out her English binder. She flipped open to the worksheet they had been given and the papers the act had been printed on.

"Okay, so what do you not understand about it?" He asked, pulling up a chair and sitting.

She shrugged. Everything.

"Okay, well let's start with some basic stuff like vocab. Read the first paragraph, please."

She did, tripping over the funny words that Shakespeare had added.

He looked over. "Okay, do you know what's happening?"

She retold what she thought was happening in "Macbeth", but he quickly stopped her, shaking his head.

He reread it to her, making it sound like he had invented the No Fear - Shakespeare page on SparkNotes. "Okay, now do you understand?"

She nodded, reciting what Banquo was blathering about.

"Wonderful, Rapunzel," He praised, playfully patting her back. "Okay, so let's continue..."

By the end of two hours, she knew everything that was going on in Macbeth, all the symbols, and any test question he could possibly throw at her. He had also praised her at any chance he could, and it wasn't until she got up to take care of her things and leave did she realize how close together they were sitting.

"Oh, uhm, goodnight Mr. Fitzherbert."

"Goodnight," He said, putting the chair back. "Do you have a way home?"

She looked at the clock. "My Dad will be home, I'll call him."

He nodded. "Alright. Be safe."

She called her Dad, like she had promised Fitzherbert she would, but he didn't pick up. So, she trudged back inside and asked if he could drop her off at her house.

The ride was awkward, and she fidgeted nervously in the seat, staring straight ahead. After a long minute he rifled around in his glove department and pulled out a bag of mints, offering her one.

He parked in her driveway, and she thanked him and gave him an one-armed hug before getting out.

Her Dad was in the living room, reading, when she came in. He looked up when she came in, but didn't say anything until she sat down.

"Where were you?"

"At school. Mr. Fitzherbert was tutoring me on Macbeth."

He looked at her warily, as if expecting her of lying. "Okay, well, call next time."

She nodded. "Of course."


	2. Chapter 2

Eugene shuffled some papers together, clipping together with a clamp and sat them aside in a folder. His class didn't start for another twenty minutes, but it was better to be prepared than struggling to find everything.

He placed some folders aside and sat down at his desk, pulling up a Word Document. He stared at it blankly for a minute before tabbing it down, frowning.

There was a knock on the door, and Rapunzel came in, smiling shyly. "Hi, can I come in, or is it too early?"

"No, go ahead," He said, shrugging. He wanted to pretend he didn't care, but, hey, she _liked_ him. Even if she was barely legal.

She sat her stuff down at her seat, before pulling a chair up next to him. "Hi."

"Hi, Rapunzel," He replied tensely. She was getting pretty close and comfortable to him.

"You look nice today," She said, forefinger looping around a strand of blonde hair. "Very... handsome."

"Thanks," He said, looking down. Button-up shirt. The school was lucky if he remembered to even put on a clean shirt, let alone a nice one. He looked over to her; flowery dress and a white cardigan. "You look beautiful."

She blushed, looking away.

When he looked up, away from her, he noticed the principal in the doorway, a tight-lipped frown adorning his face.

"Max! My old friend!" He said loudly, pretending he hadn't just been hitting on his student. "Just helping Rapunzel with some... Shakespeare."

Max narrowed his eyes, white hair framing the dark, soulless pits. "C'mere, Eugene. We need to talk."

Eugene slowly followed him out in the hall, feeling the similar dread he did in high school when he got caught stealing the Prom Queen's crown.

Thankfully, Max didn't sentence him to detention every day for the rest of the year.

"Look, I dunno what you two were doing in there, maybe you were reciting lines, /I don't know/, but I know if I see it again, there will be consequences."

He nodded, looking away. "We were reading Shakespeare, it won't happen again, I promise."

Max nodded. "Good. Also, don't forget about conferences tonight."

He nodded, watching Max turn and leave. After a pause, he went back in his room, checking the clock. Fifteen more minutes until class started.

"What did the principal want?" She asked, voice quiet and innocent. She was probably just curious.

"Nothing, nothing, he just thought I was hitting on you." Immediately, he knows that's the wrong thing to say. He was definitely hitting on her, he just hadn't been expecting to be caught.

But the damage is done, and she moves back to her seat, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes.

The following days were anything but bearable for Rapunzel. Here she'd been, with this foolish crush on her English teacher - and just when she believed she had been getting somewhere with him, the blonde found herself shut down by that dreamy, intelligent Mr. Fitzherbert.

And so the dreadful thought of her rejection kept itself persistent in her mind, and there didn't seem to be a way to improve her mood. Even a lunch out with Pascal couldn't remedy her crushing disappointment.

Rapunzel further avoided Mr. Fitzherbert's after school 'tutoring', until Friday. That was when she decided to attend again, after recooperating; because above all, her grade was important. Not her stupid feelings she developed on a whim.

"...Hi, Mr. Fitzherbert." Rapunzel set her bottomless book bag down on the floor aside in the usual seat, a solemn glare painted on her face.

"Hello, Rapunzel, how was your week?" Eugene exhaled and gave his student a gentle smile.

"Fine," She said, offering no other explanation. She pulled the material out of her bag, focusing on making it look perfect on her desk before she finally looked up at him.

"So, what do you need help with today?" He asked, quiet amusement hinting in his voice. She looked back down at her notebook, heat spreading across her face. She hadn't been ready for this, she realized, she was sitting their with her tongue tied and her hands shaking.

"Uhm." She swallowed, pulling paper. "I, uhm, had questions about the requirements for our short story. And, uhm, I'm not sure what to write about either."

He came over to her seat, sitting next to her. Her skin prickled, but she did have questions- she couldn't just get up and leave, no matter how much she wanted to. "Okay, well you know it needs to be ten pages minimum- twelve print, times new roman font, double spaced. You need to include a moral in the end, or a lesson to learn. Other than that you pretty much have free reign, I'm not picky."

"Okay." She nodded, feeling like her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. "So I can write anything?"

"Within reason, of course. Try and keep away from erotica, or anything that could get you in trouble like rape or pedophilia."

"Thanks," She says dryly. "So, uhm."

What was she supposed to say? That he had broke her heart? That wasn't going to get her anywhere.

He leans towards her, voice very low it's like a whisper. "By the way, you are very beautiful."

She looked up at him, her cheeks darkening. "Uhm, thank you."

He smiled at her, dark hair framing his face perfectly and she can practically feel her heart skip a beat. He had the prettiest chocolate brown eyes. "So, do you maybe wanna work over some coffee?"

She grins and nods.

Within twenty minutes they're sitting on dark chairs, looking outside the window at the rain with her homework spread between them. The cafe was the nicer one of the two in town, but a farther drive, so it had few costumers. She was glad, because no one glanced twice, wondering why Mr. Fitzherbert was with someone like her. If anything, most people stared, as if wondering their ages. Her and Pascal had looked it up once; He was twenty-six.

She sipped her hot chocolate while he explained to her the difference between a simile and a metaphor.

"You want your paper to be the best, so you wanna include the best things."

She nodded, watching him jot down the notes. "And dialogue - you don't wanna screw up dialogue."

He went on and on, until his coffee went cold and the time on her phone said it was seven.

"Well, I should probably call my Dad." She got up, stretching and pulling her phone out of her bag.

"Alright, have a good night," He said, standing up and offering her a hug. It didn't feel as weird as it should have, hugging a teacher, but he radiated warmth and smelled like cinnamon, and he folded his arms over her back, pulling them together. She didn't hesitate like she should've to lean up against him and brush her lips against his cheek, catching briefly on the shaved stubble.

They break apart, and she feels her heart pit. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for," She mumble, eyes dropping to her ground, watching her shoes.

One of his hands places itself on her shoulder. "Rapunzel, it's fine. But if we're gonna do... this, then we need to be more careful."

* * *

><p>The next day she texted back and forth with him. Whenever her father raised an eyebrow, watching her hunched over her phone in excitement she'd mouth that she was texting Pascal before messaging Eugene.<p>

Around eight he texted and asked if she wanted to come over. Her immediate answer was yes; and so was her father's when she asked if she could go to Pascal's.

When she arrived at his house, walking down the sidewalk from Pascal's, she was wearing printed PJ bottoms and a too-big shirt a college had promotionally sent her for visiting. Compared to her, Eugene looked put together, for once.

"Hi," He said, wrapping her in a tight squeeze. She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. He smelled like peppermint and aftershave today.

She broke them apart, twitching in her Finding Nemo PJ pants. She should've just came in her everyday clothes, not her pajamas, so she didn't look like a slob.

"You wanna watch a movie?" He asked, glancing at her. She nodded, watching him fiddle with blankets and pillows on a pull-out bed. She laid down and covered up while he picked a movie, then he pulled her into his arms and held her, and she slowly entered a dreamless sleep before the title credits finished rolling.

She awoke to sun in her face, and a heavy blanket draped over half her body. A title screen for a movie replayed on the TV. She rubbed the discharge from her eyes, blinking out of her foggy vision.

"Good morning, sleepy head," Eugene said, leaning against the back of the bed and kissing the top of her head. She picked an eyelash from her tearduct, watching him walk off to another part of his apartment, dressed in only plaid PJ pants, every sharp edge of his muscles visible.

How did an English teacher get muscles?

Before she could fully process the thought, he came back with a toasted bagel with cream cheese on a plate and a cup of orange juice. He handed them to her. "Sorry if you were expecting something better. Cooking isn't really my thing."

She shrugged, chewing on the tough piece of the grain.

"Anything planned for today?" He asked abruptly, and she almost choked on the drink to answer him. She shook her head; her homework was done and Pascal had family over.

"Oh." He paused, fingers playing with loose strands on his pajama pants and rubbing the material. "Do you need to go home?"

She shakes her head, dusting flakes off her hands. "Nah, my Dad's not too picky about that stuff."

"Ah."

It's awkward, and she struggles to find what to say. She could say anything; ask about school, have him talk about himself.

"I need to take a shower," She blurts out. It's not the great topic she had been hoping for, but she needed to scrub off night sweat and get into new clothes.

"Oh! Right! The shower is down the hall. First door on the right." He seemed relieved with the change of topic. She was hoping he was going to get dressed too, he was pretty distracting in just pants.

She got up and went into the bathroom. His shower spray was easy enough to figure out, and she stripped of her night clothes, sinking slowly into the hot water.

Eugene thankfully had unscented barsoap rather than some masculine smelling body wash, and she slathered her body in it and let the warm stream wash her off.

"Rapunzel-"

She jumped at the sound of his voice, almost falling on the slick floor, her limbs quickly wrapping around her private areas.

"-I just brought in a towel, you forgot one," He said, and there was the sound of him setting down something, and then the door clicking shut.

After her shower she dried off and dressed into clothes she had brought. She was glad she had remembered clothes so she didn't have to re-wear printed pajamas.

She put on house shoes and dropped her bag on a chair in his living room. He wasn't in the kitchen so she figured he was in his room.

She knocked on the door. "Eugene?"

The door open. He had jeans and socks on, but his shirt was hanging limply in his hand. He slippedit on while she walked in.

"You look beautiful," He said, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. She touched her wet plaited braid nervously. He fell back on his bed tiredly. "I have lesson plans to make."

"Free day?" She asked hopefully.

"We have to get through the rest of Macbeth, take a test and write another paper."

She sighed. "Okay, well then I'll go walk down to Pascal's if you're gonna be busy."

"Be safe," He said, sitting up so he could kiss her.


End file.
